


Out Of The Woods

by cinnabongene



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arson, Attempted Murder, Enemies to Friends, Family Bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, More Like Enemies to Parental Figures, V.F.D. Lore, poison darts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnabongene/pseuds/cinnabongene
Summary: What would it take for Count Olaf to become a good guardian? Is there any shadow of a decent, caring person left inside of him? Probably not, but in this AU there is!When all four of their lives come under threat from a mysterious assailant, Count Olaf and the Baudelaire orphans are forced to go on the lam together, a phrase which here means Olaf accidentally discovers he has paternal instincts. Canon-divergence starting at the end of The Carnivorous Carnival.





	1. The Foreboding Forest

“Nice Wolfie,” said Esme as she slowly approached the growling Sunny. She knew she shouldn’t be so afraid; it was just a baby after all. But as she reached her hands down to grab hold of her, she was met with a terrifying bite. 

“Aaaahhh!” she screamed, pulling away and examining her quickly bruising hand. “I am not touching that baby. Bite marks are so not in.” 

“Go wait in the car,” Olaf sighed. “I’ll take care of it.” Olaf rubbed his eyebrow in exhaustion as Esme stormed off. 

When he had collected himself, Olaf looked back up to the terrified Violet and Klaus, still trying to pull off their ridiculous ruse as conjoined twins. “You know,” he began. “You’re lucky that there are so many books and films here. They’re highly flammable. Burn this tent down, and then you and the little wolf baby can join my acting troupe. It’s time to take up the torch.” 

He handed a torch to Violet, a lighter to Klaus, and then he made his exit. The orphans deserved some solitude while they made their peace with what they were about to become. Still, he had to keep a keen ear on them to make sure they didn’t try anything undesirable. 

“We’re not going anywhere with Count Olaf,” he heard Klaus say. 

Sunny made an unintelligible, childish noise. 

“Sunny’s right,” said Violet. “He burned our ride out of here. There’s nothing around for miles. Everyone out there still thinks we’re murderers. He’s our only way to get to the mountains.”

“If we set this fire, we’re as bad as he is.” 

“If we don’t, we’ll never find out if one of our parents survived.”

That was enough eavesdropping. He couldn’t stand to listen to other people’s pain and moral quandaries. He had learned long ago that the best way to start a fire, or to conduct any sort of unpleasant business, was to act first and think later. Or preferably, to act first and think of it never. He strode back through the tent flaps. 

“I know just how you feel,” he said, his voice softer in spite of himself. “My first time was hard, too. Let me help you with that.” He grabbed the lighter from Klaus’s hand and replaced it with the torch, so all three of them held it. 

Sunny watched as Count Olaf and her siblings lowered the torch to the lighter, then touched it to the book, igniting the blaze. “Get the food,” he said, once it had been done. While their hands were full with the crate of food and time was running out to leave the tent, it would be the perfect opportunity to grab the baby and enact his plan.

But just as he put his hand on Violet’s shoulder to usher them out of the tent ahead of him, something whizzed past Klaus’s head. They all whipped around to see a dart caught in the fabric of the side of the tent. Olaf went pale. 

“What are you doing? We said we’d go with you!” Violet cried. 

Olaf stepped toward the back of the tent and pulled the dart from the fabric to examine it. Written in small, cursive text on its side were the words _Very Fatal Dart._ “I’m not doing this,” he murmured. 

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny exchanged a confused and concerned look before another dart flew into the tent, this one just barely missing Count Olaf’s neck, lodging itself in the upturned collar of his vest. They all looked to the dart, then back up at each other. “Run,” said Olaf. 

Violet and Klaus picked up Sunny to the best of their ability and followed Olaf under the fabric of the back of the tent to make their escape in the opposite direction of their attacker. “Get to the car,” said Olaf. 

“What car?” asked Violet.

Olaf turned to the location where he had known his car and his troupe to be, and found neither, only fire encroaching on them from all directions. “Shit. They’re gone.” 

“What are we going to do?” asked Klaus. 

Another dart stuck into the ground at their feet. 

“Get out of here before whoever this is improves their aim,” said Olaf, shoving the children forward into a run. 

As anyone who has ever tried a three-legged race well knows, it is nearly impossible to run while attached to another person. This task is made even more tribulating when the attached persons are attempting to carry a third, smaller person, using only one arm each. This is to say nothing of the complications added by the fear of an unknown assailant shooting Very Fatal Darts in your direction, a burning carnival surrounding you, and the man who has made every moment of your life a waking hell for the past several months running right behind you. 

“Take off that ridiculous costume so you can run faster,” ordered Olaf. 

“We’re not wearing a costume,” said Klaus, laying on his fake accent. “We’re conjoined tw—”

“Klaus. Violet. Take off the costume.” 

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny shared a grim look. Violet shifted Sunny to hold her on her hip while Klaus pulled their makeshift jacket off and let it fall to the ground behind them, freeing their other arms. 

“There’s a popcorn cart just up ahead,” said Violet. 

Olaf furrowed his brow. “I don’t think now’s a particularly good time for a snack.”

“She doesn’t want us to eat the popcorn. She wants us to ride it to safety,” said Klaus. 

Violet grabbed on to the popcorn cart with her free hand and waited for Klaus and Olaf to do the same. “We’ll ride it down the hill. The momentum should be enough to take us far away from here. As long as we don’t fall off.” 

“Are you sure this is sa—” Olaf had no time to finish his complaint before Violet and Klaus had pushed off and sent them rolling away from the carnival. 

It wasn’t long before they had picked up considerable speed and were careening downhill through the rugged terrain of the Hinterlands. 

“There’s no way to steer this thing!” shouted Olaf. 

“We’ll have to steer with our body weight,” said Klaus. 

“Lean to the left!” cried Violet, spotting a boulder in their path that surely would have sent them flying as fast as any of the darts littering the ground of the carnival. Darts which were currently being picked up and investigated by a taxi driver who had arrived just too late to help. Darts which sent a shiver through this taxi driver at the memory of the last time she had seen them used. 

Violet, Klaus, Sunny, and Olaf leaned their weight to the left, narrowly avoiding the boulder. “See, we’re fine,” said Klaus. 

“I hate to be the bearer of more bad news,” said Olaf, his eyes on the quickly encroaching tree line at the bottom of the hill, “But I don’t suppose either of you brats know how to stop this thing.”

Violet closed her eyes and ran through all the blueprints for braking mechanisms she could remember reading. “If only we had a stick or something we could put on the ground or on the tires to create resistance.” 

“Maybe the resistance doesn’t have to be created by us,” said Klaus. 

“What do you mean?” Violet asked. 

“Those are cattail plants growing over there,” he pointed. “Cattails usually grow in marshy conditions, which means—”

“Mud!” exclaimed Violet. “Everyone, steer toward the cattails.”

“And get mud all over this nice vest?” Olaf asked. 

“I think that’s preferable to having your internal organs all over your vest, which is what will happen if we crash into those trees,” said Klaus. 

Olaf leaned toward the cattails and kept his mouth shut. Soon, the ground below the rickety popcorn cart became softer and turned to mud, bringing the Baudelaires and Count Olaf to a safe, gentle stop at the edge of a dense forest. 

Violet looked behind them. “I think we lost them. Whoever it was.” 

“We better have, after that fiasco,” said Olaf, stepping off of the cart and into the mud. 

“Do you know who would be after us?” Violet asked. 

“And why they would be after you, too?” Klaus added. 

Olaf shrugged. “I have a great deal of enemies. It could be any one of them.” 

“Why would they be after us, though? We don’t have a great deal of enemies. Our only enemy is you,” Klaus retorted. 

Olaf leaned in just close enough to the boy to be menacing. “That’s not true, Klaus. I’m not _your_ enemy. I’m your _parents’_ enemy. And they had _plenty_ more enemies.” After a moment, he stood back to his full height and began to walk toward the forest. “Come on. We better get moving if we want to find someplace to stay before it gets dark.” 

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” said Klaus, he and his siblings backing away. 

Olaf rolled his eyes. “Oh please, three children wandering the Hinterlands alone? You can’t drive, you have no money, no connections, and you’re wanted for arson and murder. You’ll look much less suspicious traveling with an adult. And I’m old enough to get rental car.” 

Sunny babbled a noise which her siblings took to mean, “Old enough is an understatement.” 

“He does have a point,” said Violet. “Maybe the only way to stop being on the run _from_ Count Olaf is to be on the run _with_ Count Olaf.” 

“That defeats the whole purpose of being on the run from him all these months! He’s going to hurt us!” Klaus argued. 

“Please, I wouldn’t hurt a hair on any of your bratty little heads right now. Not with someone else out to murder you. The more of you there are, the greater my chances of one of you staying alive long enough for me to steal your fortune.” 

Violet turned back to Klaus. “We have the leverage,” she assured him.

Klaus took in a breath and nodded. “Okay. We’ll go with him. But only until we’re out of the woods.” 

‘Out of the woods’ is a phrase which here means ‘out of imminent danger.’ Danger such as the assassin who was currently pursuing Count Olaf and the Baudelaires. This phrase came to be because the woods is often a treacherous place, filled with deadly animals, sharp sticks, and hidden caches of secret documents. So, as Violet, Klaus, and Sunny Baudelaire reluctantly followed Count Olaf into the dark forest, it would be accurate both figuratively and literally to say that they were far from out of the woods.


	2. The Cryptic Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for animal death. (I am sensitive to animal death myself, and I wrote this, so I don't think it will be too bad. I just wanted people sensitive to that to be prepared.)

“I think this might be a game trail,” said Klaus, looking ahead along a path where the underbrush seemed less dense. 

“No hoofprints,” Sunny pointed out in a babble. 

“I don’t think it’s a game trail,” said Violet. 

“Why not?” asked Klaus. 

Violet pushed the branches in front of her aside so the others could see. “Deer don’t build cabins.” 

“Should we go see if anyone’s home?” asked Klaus. 

“Obviously,” said Olaf, pushing ahead. 

“What if they recognize us from the papers?” asked Klaus. 

Olaf shrugged. “I have matches.” 

 

“It seems abandoned,” said Klaus, after the fourth ring of the doorbell. 

“I’ll say,” muttered Olaf, peering through the windows. “The place looks like _my_ house.” 

“Regardless, we can still use it as shelter if we can get in,” said Violet, examining the combination lock on the door. “I should be able to invent something to pick this lock.” 

Olaf looked down at the lock. “Let me see that.” He pushed Violet aside and took the lock in his hand. Then, as if it were his own high school locker, he entered the code and clicked it open. 

“How did you know that?” Klaus asked. 

“Standard VFD combination. This is a safehouse. I thought it looked familiar.” Olaf pushed the door open and strode inside. The Baudelaires exchanged concerned glances and followed him in. 

Olaf flipped on the lights, and they took in their surroundings. Papers, old books, and miscellaneous supplies littered the floor. Olaf made a beeline for the kitchen cabinets. Empty, except for a can of very expired alphabet soup, a bottle of parsley soda, and a jar of horseradish. 

“We’re going to have to hunt for food,” Olaf concluded. 

 

By sunset, Violet had managed to build a simple rabbit trap with materials from the cabin, and Klaus had used his knowledge from a book he had read about foraging to identify some safe roots and berries for Sunny to prepare for them. They had even found a couple raspberry bushes. Now, all that was missing was the main course. 

“I’m not sure if we’ll be able to catch a rabbit this close to dark,” whispered Klaus from where they watched from the cabin’s front porch. “They’ve usually all returned to their dens by—” 

_SNAP._

Olaf grinned smugly at Klaus. “You were saying, Mr. Know-It-All?” 

The four approached the trap and looked down at the rabbit within, sniffing franctically for an exit. An uneasiness made itself known in Klaus’s stomach. “Are you sure we should do this?” he asked his sisters. “The rabbit didn’t do anything to us, and we’re just going to kill it?” 

“All the meat we eat came from something that was once living,” said Violet. “It’s just easier not to think about it when we don’t see it. At least this rabbit didn’t have to live out its whole life in a cage like farm animals do.” 

“It’s a prey animal. If we don’t eat it, something else will,” said Olaf. “And I’d personally much rather have my neck snapped than get disemboweled by an eagle.”

Klaus nodded, without actually feeling any better.

Olaf knelt down, opened the lid of the trap, and grabbed the rabbit with both hands. “You might want to look away,” he noted. But averting their eyes did nothing to stop the Baudelaires from hearing the sickening snap. 

 

Once they had crudely skinned the rabbit, Sunny was able to prepare one of the best meals any of them had eaten in weeks—not that Olaf would ever let them know. All that could be heard around the dinner table was the clatter of silverware and the sound of Olaf’s open-mouthed chewing. 

Klaus finally broke the silence. “I found a map when I was looking through the drawers. If we can figure out how to get some form of transportation, it shouldn’t take us too long to get to the Mortmain Mountains from here.” 

“Maybe I can use parts from the popcorn cart to build a bike we could ride to the nearest town,” Violet suggested. 

“The map didn’t list any towns. It was only topographical,” said Klaus. 

“Finding the nearest town is easy,” said Olaf, picking his teeth with his fork. 

Violet and Klaus looked up, startled that their unfavorable traveling companion had bothered to make a contribution to the conversation. “How?”

“Follow me.” 

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny stood from the table and followed Olaf to the cabin’s living room, where he pushed aside a rickety wooden end table and picked up the worn rug that had been beneath it, revealing a wooden hatch in the floor. 

“A secret passageway. Just like the one in our house,” said Klaus. 

Olaf opened the hatch and dropped down into the passageway, the orphans following close behind. He pulled a box of matches out of his pocket, struck one against the wall, and used it to light a torch that was waiting there. 

“Does this tunnel go all the way back to our house?” Klaus asked. 

“Your house, my house, even your sniveling friends the Quagmires’ house.” Olaf started down the passageway, looking down the walls for any sign of… well, signs. “As you can imagine, a lot of people get lost down here. There should be signs here somewhere.” 

“Like these?” asked Violet, peering her head around a corner and coming face to face with three wooden signs in the shapes of arrows. 

Olaf brought the torch over and examined them. To the left, Quagmire; to the right, Caustic Creek; straight ahead, safehouse #451. “There we go. Caustic Creek should have a general store at the very least.” 

“Do these tunnels go all the way to the Mortmain Mountains?” Klaus asked. 

“Obviously.”

“Would it not be safer to travel underground than on the roads?” 

“It’s never safer to use the tunnels. Whoever’s after us is bound to be down here at some point, and here there’s no where to run,” said Olaf. “Now, come on. Let’s get out of here before someone hears.” 

Once they were back in the cabin, they moved one of the heavier pieces of furniture over the hatch to ensure it remained shut. While Klaus charted a route to Caustic Creek, Violet tied her hair up and got to work building a three-person bicycle with a basket on the front for Sunny. Meanwhile, Olaf went to check out the bed situation. 

Thankfully, there were two, not that Olaf would have paid any heed to making the children sleep on the floor. They deserved it after all they’d put him through the past months. “I call the big one,” he announced. 

“That’s not fair,” said Klaus. “There’s three of us and only one of you.”

“I’m bigger.” 

“Not as big as the three of us combined.” 

“I’m the adult. You’re lucky I don’t push both beds together and make you sleep on the porch,” said Olaf, making himself comfortable in his new bed. 

“We should sleep in shifts,” said Violet. 

Olaf opened one eye. “Hmm?” 

“There’s someone out there trying to murder us. We need to be alert.” 

“We should take the shifts in groups of two. That way we can keep each other awake,” said Klaus, but his sisters could tell what he was actually trying to say, that someone needed to be awake to keep an eye on Olaf. 

“And if something happens to one of us, the other can alert whoever’s asleep,” Violet added for good measure. 

“Fine, but I’m taking the second the shift,” said Olaf. “Wake me up when it’s time. And try not to make too much noise.” 

The Baudelaires shut the door to the bedroom and quietly made their way back to the living room. 

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” asked Klaus. “We could get away now, while he’s asleep.” 

Violet shook her head. “As much as I hate to say it, I think we’re safer with him than without him.”

“Keep your enemies closer,” Sunny babbled in agreement. 

“We’re never safe,” said Klaus. 

Violet put her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “As long as we’re stuck with Count Olaf, we might as well try to make the best of it. He seems to know a lot about VFD. Maybe we can get some answers out of him.”

Klaus nodded reluctantly. “I’ll stay up with him tonight. You and Sunny can keep working on the bike and wake me up when you’re finished.” 

Violet nodded. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make it out of this just like we’ve made it out of everything else. Now, go try to get some sleep.” 

The hope that her brother could get a much-deserved rest was enough to help Violet fight through the exhaustion for a few more hours. But as Klaus lay in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, he learned that no matter how exhausted one may be, it is incredibly difficult to sleep just feet away from the snoring body of someone who has robbed you of everything. 

 

“Klaus. Klaus. Wake up. It’s time,” whispered Violet, gently shaking her brother awake. Sunny had already fallen asleep in her arms, and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open herself. 

Klaus sat up and put on his glasses. “I feel like I only slept for a few minutes,” he mumbled. “But it’s okay. You and Sunny need to go to bed. I’ll wake him up.” 

“Maybe we should just let him sleep,” said Violet. 

“He’ll know we didn’t wake him up when we said we would. He’ll think we were trying to pull something,” said Klaus, approaching the other bed and staring at the gangly sleeping figure, trying to figure out his plan of attack. “Count Olaf,” he said softly. Then a bit louder, “Count Olaf.” Still, the snoring continued. Tentatively, Klaus reached out and touched the man on the shoulder. “Count Olaf.” 

The second Klaus’s fingertips touched his shoulder, Olaf jolted awake with a scream, clutching his blanket to his chest. Violet and Klaus exchanged a look. 

“Oh, it’s you brats,” Olaf muttered, attempting to sound dignified. “Is it time already?” 

Klaus nodded. 

Olaf sighed and dragged himself from the bed. “Alright, I’m up. But don’t expect me to be entertaining.” 

 

The tension in the room was thick like a heavy fog as Klaus and Count Olaf sat several feet apart from each other, both leaning against the wall that faced the cabin’s front door and fighting to stay awake. 

“We’re supposed to be keeping watch,” said Klaus after he’d looked over and noticed Olaf appeared to be dosing off. 

“I am keeping watch,” he said, eyes still closed. 

“It’s not keeping watch if you have your eyes closed.” 

“I’m keeping listen, then. Which is hard to do over the sound of your complaining.” 

Klaus kept quiet. 

Olaf kept his eyes shut and listened as the stillness of the night gradually faded to the chirping song of morning. Just one lonely bird at first, and then a whole chorus, all before the sun’s rays even peaked over the horizon. “I don’t know why you brats were so insistent about guarding the front door,” he muttered, bored without something to antagonize. “No self-respecting assassin is going to come in that way.” 

He waited a few seconds for a reply before opening his eyes and glancing over to the middle Baudelaire, who was sound asleep against the wall. Olaf sighed, stood up, and made his way into the kitchen. 

 

The soft, morning light on his face and the sweet smell drifting through the air caused Klaus to awaken with a start. For one sleep-addled moment, he had believed himself to be back in his bed in his house, with his parents making breakfast downstairs. But this was quickly shattered by the feeling of the cold, hard wood beneath him and the even colder realization that he was supposed to have been keeping an eye on Count Olaf. He shot up to his feet and ran back into the bedroom. No sign of Olaf, just his sisters sleeping soundly, unharmed. His panic settled into a confused apprehension as he followed the scent into the kitchen. 

There, he found none other than Count Olaf, sitting at the kitchen table in front of a large stack of what appeared to be raspberry pancakes. 

“How did you get those?” Klaus asked. 

“I called the pancake delivery man,” said Olaf, rolling his eyes. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” 

“There weren’t enough ingredients for pancakes here,” said Klaus. 

“I found a box of pancake mix in one of the supply crates,” said Olaf, shoving a bite in his mouth. 

Before Klaus could possibly think of anything else to say about the scene before him, Violet and Sunny came into the kitchen. “Pancakes?” Violet asked. 

“And no orange juice?” Sunny added. 

“When did this become ask Count Olaf stupid questions hour? Now shut up and eat so you’ll quit whining.” 

Violet sat down and tentatively took one of the pancakes from the stack, giving it a suspicious sniff. 

Olaf sighed and rolled his eyes again. “They’re not poisoned. Like I said, I need you all alive. In fact, it would be nice if there was a fourth one of you, just to be safe.” 

“We should head out right after breakfast,” said Violet as her siblings joined her at the table. “We might be able to make it to the mountains before sunset.” 

Sunny was about to make a comment about the slightly burnt consistency of Olaf’s pancakes, when everyone’s attention was caught by a rustling from the direction of the chimney. There, at the bottom of the fireplace, was a tightly curled piece of paper that hadn’t been there before. 

Klaus furrowed his brow. “A message…” 

“From a raven,” Violet hypothesized. 

Olaf nodded, and stood to retrieve it. They all stood around him as he unfurled the paper and revealed the message.

“It’s a poem,” said Klaus. 

“Some of the words are missing letters,” said Violet. 

“Way ahead of you,” muttered Olaf, pulling a pen out of his pocket and scribbling down the missing letters at the bottom of the page.

V F D H Q U P I N S M O K E


	3. The Regrettable Rabbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another animal death warning. (This will be the last chapter with that... I think.)

Olaf stared at the paper in his hands. “Shit.” 

“Why did the message come to us?” asked Violet. “Does someone know we’re here?”

Olaf shook his head. “Something this big, they would have sent a message to every VFD site in a hundred-mile radius.” 

“Who would do this?” Violet asked. 

“Normally, I’d say me, but clearly that isn’t the case this time,” said Olaf. 

“It was probably whoever’s after us,” said Klaus. “They probably thought we’d be there.”

“Which means wherever they are, they’re close,” said Violet. 

“What now?” Sunny babbled. 

“It’d be pointless to go to the mountains anymore,” said Violet. “We need a new plan.” 

“We should go into town anyway,” said Klaus. “We’re sitting ducks if we stay here.” 

Violet shook her head. “It’d be too dangerous to leave right now. Whoever burned down the headquarters is probably coming back this way.”

“All the more reason to leave!” argued Klaus.

“We’re safer here. At least here, we’ll know if they’ve found us,” Violet countered. “Here, we could fight back.”

“Your sister’s right,” said Olaf. “We’ll stay here until we think of a new plan.” 

Klaus bit his tongue. It was useless to argue. He wanted to trust Violet, but he just couldn’t stand the thought of staying trapped in a cabin with Count Olaf for another minute longer. “I’m going to do some more reading,” he muttered and made his way back to the bookshelf to try and make something useful out of his time here. 

Violet caught her brother by the shoulder. “It’ll just be one more night. We’ll go to the town as soon as it’s safe. I promise.” 

Klaus shook his head and kept walking. “It’ll never be safe.”

 

It was painfully quiet at the cabin. Inside, Klaus read in the corner while Sunny experimented with making parsley soda pancakes. Outside, Olaf idly carved away at a stick with his pocket knife, and Violet sat on the porch, keeping a watchful eye on the trees. 

Out of the blue, she broke the silence. “I want you to teach me how to kill a rabbit.” 

Olaf quirked one half of his eyebrow and glanced at her sidelong. “Why the hell would you want to know that?” 

“I need to be able to protect my family.” 

“From rabbits?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Olaf was quiet for a moment, glaring aimlessly into the forest. “Set the trap.”

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Olaf asked as he and Violet stared down at the little trapped creature. “It’s not too _wicked_ for someone _noble_ like you?”

“I have to. I promised I would protect my siblings. How can I protect them if I can’t even provide food for them?” 

Olaf sighed as he squatted down next to the trap. “Alright. It won’t be easy though. The first time is hardest, because you always remember it. No matter how numb you get to it, the first time always hurts in the back of your mind.”

“I can handle it,” she insisted. “I’ve handled worse.” 

Olaf opened the trap. “The trick is to do it quickly. The meat doesn’t taste as good if they’re scared when they die. Pick it up now, one hand underneath it and the other around its neck.”

Violet stooped down next to him and reached into the trap with shaking hands. The rabbit was softer than she had wanted it to be. She could feel its tiny heart beating rapidly against her fingers. 

“You have to twist as hard and fast as you can,” said Olaf. “You only get one shot before it feels the pain.” 

Violet took in a shaky breath and tightened her grip around the creature’s neck. 

“Three, two, one…” Olaf guided. 

_SNAP._

Tears fell from Violet’s eyes as she looked down at the dead thing in her hands. They were both silent for a moment. 

“How do you do it?” Violet asked. “How do you do it without feeling terrible?”

“You have to act without thinking about the consequences,” said Olaf. “You’re not killing a rabbit; you’re simply twisting your hand. You’re not starting a fire; you’re only dropping a match.” 

“Is it the same,” she began quietly, tearing pricking her eyes again, “for killing a person?”

A cold wind blew through the trees surrounding them.

“Yes.” 

 

“Next we have to butcher it,” said Olaf, after showing Violet how to drain the rabbit of its blood. “I really don’t know what I’m doing here, but the last one didn’t turn out too bad. Maybe you can get your brother to read a book about it sometime.” 

“It doesn’t have to be good, just edible,” said Violet. 

“Well, first things first, let’s get this damn fur off,” said Olaf, pulling his knife out of his pocket and tossing it to Violet. She caught it, and together they took to the grim task. 

 

“Try seeing if you can get whatever that bit is out of there,” said Olaf. 

“The liver,” said Violet. 

“It looks disgusting, whatever it is,” muttered Olaf. He tried to hold the rabbit in a steady position while Violet worked at cutting it apart. As she was about to make the final cut to remove the liver, the knife slipped and lodged itself right in the tender space between Olaf’s thumb and forefinger. 

“Shit!” he hissed, pulling his hand away. He glared back up at Violet, ready to give her a piece of his mind. “You little—” But when he saw the sheer terror in her wide eyes as she flinched away from him, it was as if something broke inside of him. 

He knew exactly why she flinched. He remembered when he had struck Klaus in front of his theater troupe. He had wanted to look powerful. To show everyone in the room that he could do with them as he pleased. He had wanted to demand respect. But now he was just a man, kneeling in the dirt, hiding from a predator in the woods like any other animal. Like the Baudelaire children had hidden from him. And here was another person, trying to survive just like he was, relying on him to help, and terrified of what he might do. 

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his uninjured hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

“I’m sorry. It was an—” she began to sputter. 

Olaf shot her a menacing glare. “Don’t. Worry. About. It.” 

Violet tentatively followed as Olaf stalked into the cabin to rinse off his wound in the sink. Klaus summoned Violet over to him with a wide-eyed questioning look. “What happened?” he whispered, hoping Olaf wouldn’t be able to hear them over the sound of the running water. 

“I cut him while we were skinning the rabbit,” Violet whispered back. 

“…On purpose?” Klaus asked. 

“What? Of course not. It was an accident.” 

“What are you orphans whispering about?” Olaf sneered. “You think you can use my vulnerable state to your advantage? Because it’s not going to happen. I’ve gotten by fine with worse.” 

“No,” said Klaus. “It’s just… there was bound to have been a lot of bacteria on that knife. Perhaps we could make some sort of disinfectant salve from the native plants in the area.” 

“Or vodka,” Sunny suggested.

“It’s going to be fine,” Olaf insisted, making his way back to the bedroom, where he tore a strip from one of the bedsheets and wrapped it around his hand as a makeshift bandage. “Now all of you stop staring at me and go finish up with that rabbit. I’m starving.” 

 

Olaf and Klaus took the first watch that night, sitting against the wall in the living room while Violet and Sunny slept soundly in the bedroom. Klaus had positioned himself so he could read in the light of a moonbeam, and Olaf busied himself crudely carving the words of a poem into one of the floorboards. 

It was so quiet in the little cabin, and the light from the moon so serene, that Olaf never even realized that he was drifting off to sleep. 

In his dream, a familiar scent enveloped him, the grim and nostalgic smell of burning wood and smoke. Run as he might, he could not escape it, and it was getting harder and harder for him to breathe. Only when his coughing fit awoke him, did he become terrifyingly aware that the smoke was no dream.


	4. The Familiar Flames

Count Olaf jolted up, dizzy from the smoke, his eyes stinging and his vision filled with the orange flames that licked at the walls of the cabin. The front door was completely engulfed. He looked to the side of him where the middle Baudelaire was still slumped against the wall, either asleep or passed out. 

“Klaus!” he shouted, grabbing the boy’s shoulders and shaking him into awareness. 

“Wha?” he startled awake, then immediately recognized the danger they were in. “Violet! Sunny!” he gasped. 

Olaf scrambled to his feet, his gangly legs carrying him into the bedroom with Klaus close behind. The other Baudelaires were still asleep as well, blissfully ignorant of the blaze that was soon to engulf them. Without thinking, Olaf snatched Sunny into his arms. As she awoke, her first instinct was to bite the man, but she stopped herself at the sight of the blaze. 

Klaus grabbed his sister by the arm and began to pull her from the bed. “Violet, get up!”

“Huh? Oh!” she gasped scrambling out from under the covers.

“We need to go!” said Olaf, leading the charge out of the bedroom just as the window shattered behind them. 

“The front door’s gone,” said Klaus, staring down the wall of flames. “Where do we go?” 

“We might be able to survive if we run through quick enough,” said Violet. 

“This way,” said Olaf, already running to where they had covered the door that led to the underground passageway. With his free arm, he pushed the heavy trunk out of the way and opened up the hatch, ushering Violet and Klaus inside before leaping down himself and shutting the door behind him. 

They ran down the tunnel a little way, to be certain they were out from underneath the fire, then stopped to catch their collective breaths. Before Violet could say anything, Olaf handed Sunny back to her without a word. He then pulled his match book from his pocket and lit the torch that was waiting on the wall. 

In the ominous, flickering glow, the four shared a look of terror and relief that cannot be expressed in words. If Klaus hadn’t been convinced that Olaf wasn’t behind all of this before, he was now. Count Olaf wasn’t that good of an actor. 

Violet held her sister close, wishing she had been the one to carry her to safety. She still couldn’t understand what had compelled Olaf to do that. It hadn’t been malicious, like the other times he had taken Sunny.

“Klaus, Sunny, are you alright?” Violet asked once she found her voice. 

“Peachy,” replied Sunny.

“I’m fine too,” said Klaus. “What about you?” 

“I’m okay,” said Violet.

“Don’t mind me,” said Olaf. “Just suffering from smoke inhalation here.” 

“We should keep moving,” said Violet. 

“What if whoever started the fire is in the tunnels?” asked Klaus. 

“The fire was started from the outside, and this is the only entrance to these tunnels for miles. We should be safe here… for now,” said Olaf. 

And the four orphans proceeded into the dark. 

 

“No one’s ever told us. How did you know our parents?” asked Klaus, about ten grueling minutes of silence into their walk. 

“Haven’t you pieced it together by now?” asked Olaf. “We grew up together; we went to Prufrock Prep together. Your mother and I even dated the same guy. Not your father—thank god. And not at the same time… I think.” 

“There’s so little we know about them,” said Klaus. “Sometimes I feel like you might know them better than we do.”

“I might,” Olaf shrugged. “One thing’s for sure, you certainly have their perseverance.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Klaus. 

“No one else has ever been able to outsmart me and see through my schemes for as long as you brats have. I've never seen anyone escape from a villain's clutches so consistently. As your former guardian, I’m almost proud… almost.” 

“Our parents taught us well,” said Klaus. 

“Even though we didn’t realize it at the time, they taught us how to survive,” said Violet. “Even in a world filled with people like you.”

“Your parents taught me a valuable lesson as well, orphans,” he said. 

“What would that be?” asked Klaus. 

“That one can’t expect to get through life without a tremendously undue amount of suffering, and that you must be prepared to lose everything at a moment’s notice… I suppose I taught you that one for them.” 

The Baudelaire’s were silent for a while. 

“You know,” said Olaf, “When you get older, people stop calling you an orphan. But being one never hurts any less.”


End file.
